


Make Out Like A Bandit - Wait, No

by foppishaplomb



Series: 2nd Place Divinity's Reach Fanciest Fanfiction [1]
Category: Guild Wars, Guild Wars 2
Genre: Gen, Just Flirtin', Minor Violence, gratuitous bandit death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foppishaplomb/pseuds/foppishaplomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bandits are quite bothersome these days, specifically to partygoing nobles who have very little to do with the shadier side of Divinity's Reach. Until they are abducted, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Out Like A Bandit - Wait, No

**Author's Note:**

  * For [illictic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/illictic/gifts).



Ah, there was nothing quite like the seaside! The hot sun on your face, the salty breeze in nose, soft white sand between your toes... Of course, Faren currently wasn't experiencing anything like that, but he had always been a firm believer in the power of imagination. There was nothing wrong with taking your mind off your troubles now and again. And if there was certainly something Lord Faren had a surplus of at the moment, it was trouble.

“Ho there, Jailer,” Faren called out, waving his hand from between the bars. He smoothed out his hair and put on his most winning smile. “You there. The handsome lad with the eyepatch.” The fellow grunted in what Faren took to be interest. “I hate to bother a busy man such as yourself, but... well... these living quarters, sterling and generous though they may be...” Faren gave a strained chuckle, glancing at the bloodstained pile of rags on the floor that even his impressive denial skills were having trouble recasting as a paradise hammock. “I'm very thankful. I am. I'm just your humble prisoner and no more—I shan't deserve this much.” He looked away, knees shaking and hand covering his eyes to highlight his shame at his own lowdown existence. Through his fingers he thought he saw the guard roll his eyes, but Faren knew it was a facade to hide emotions. It was almost a shame he was born to be Divinity's Reach's most notable layabout, as he'd have been one hell of a gift to the theatre. “Pathetic, how far the mighty have fallen. I _am_ rich, you know. But! As I was saying.” Faren stood up straight and cleared his throat. “These quarters. Far be it from a prisoner to complain, but they lack certain... facilities.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, grunted again, and shrugged. Faren chewed his lip for a second, steepled his fingers. “Maybe I wasn't clear,” he said. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to dealing with your kind, not that you don't make up for your slow ways in charm! Hah ha. Ahem.” Faren gestured at his lower half. “I need to go... outside.”

“This an escape attempt?” The guard's hand went to his sword. Faren's own hands flew up.

“No! No, for gods' sake, no. I just need to piss!” He rubbed his temples. “Balthazar's puppies, is that so hard? I don't even want a decent dinner or, like, a nice blanket that isn't crawling with diseases and ringworm, let alone the kind of treatment someone of my stature is supposed to receive—I'm a prisoner, _again._ Thugs like you just can't keep their hands off me. Isn't that right, Ted? Is your name Ted? I wasn't paying attention.”

“No. Ted's dead.”

“Right. Dead Ted. Well, shove off, Dead Ted, or take me outside to take a leak.”

“Stop whining and go whiz in the corner like everyone else, rich boy.”

“Oh, gods, is that why it smells like—oh, come on. Do you know how unsanitary that is? This place is disgusting! Those little asura guys—they've proved so much about germs—”

Not-Dead Ted spat on the ground and started back to his post without another word.

“Well, fine, but when you hit hard times and start taking less fastidious prisoners and this whole place starts to reek of urine and malaise, don't come crying to ol' Lord Faren!” Faren sighed, started to sink to the ground, changed his mind and gingerly arranged himself so as little of his body touched the floor as possible. “Ted. What a dumb name anyway. I'd never name my kid Ted, unless I hated him.”

There went Faren's only escape plan. At least he didn't really need to piss. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Hopefully he'd figure something else out before then, but despite Faren's talent for everything from swashbuckling to making love, he had to admit... he was starting to realize he was not very good at making plans.

The worst part was bandits always had to go for him at parties. Faren was sure he was going to score with the girl he was after this time. She showed no signs at all of throwing her drink in his face, and that was progress. Then, of course, bandits. Such is life. While Faren couldn't be sure in all the confusion, the strange thing was he hadn't seen any other prisoners. While Faren would be the first to single himself out for his incredible charisma and considerable wealth, he was not the richest person there, nor did he have any special magical treasures, connections to government conspiracies, orders or whatever it was they were kidnapping people for nowadays. Faren supposed either he'd find out soon enough or be dead. He was hoping for the former, himself.

He spent countless eternities moping in his dirty cage, or almost a half hour, until Faren realized he could hear voices over by Dead Ted's post. Faren strained his ears, but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Since Faren was the only prisoner there, it was only a matter of time before Not-Dead Ted was back, this time sporting a companion holding a torch and rope. “Looks like you've finally realized the importance of proper sewage disposal,” said Faren. “I knew you'd come around in time, my friend. Speaking of friends, I see you've brought one.” He stood up, laughing nervously as he eyed the extra guard. He was trained in one-on-one swordfighting and even that didn't do much without a sword. “No need for that. I know you're excited, but it really is a simple concept...”

'Ted' sighed theatrically while he unhooked a ring of keys from his belt. “Grab a gag, too. Grenth take me, he's so damn _annoying._ ”

“Hey! You don't see me making fun of your rainbow of physical and personality defects, do you, _Ted—_ ”

Ted opened the cell door and shoved Faren face-first into the wall. Faren had no time at all to express just how disgusted he was when his head was wrenched back and a gag tied around his mouth, and his arms were cruelly twisted and tied behind his back. His protested muffled into nonsense, he settled for making a _very_ irritated face instead. This was not how the plan was meant to go at all! The extra guard he could understand, but how was he supposed to pee with bound hands? That was the ruse. _They_ didn't know he only meant to escape.

“What a pointless job. At least the coin is good.” Ted hefted Faren up by his arm, nearly dislocating his shoulder as far as Faren was concerned, and shoved him over to the other guard. “The big cheese have him. My shift's nearly over anyway. I get to kick off early without Little Lord Fauntleroy around.”

The other guard nodded, taking Faren by the arms slightly more carefully. “Thanks, Greg.” With one more grunt from Ted/Greg, the new guard led Faren away as quickly as possible into the catacombs of the bandit cave, pushing him when he wasn't fast enough. Faren cooperated until, when he judged them a fair distance away from backup, he started to struggle. He broke out of the guard's light grip with ease, but he had barely started to run before he was blindsided by a copy and slammed into the cave wall by the real thug.

“Lord Faren! Calm down, sweetheart, I'm not a kidnapper,” a surprisingly high voice came from the bandit's scarred face. Suddenly the ruffian shattered apart to reveal a beautiful woman inside, and while Faren still didn't like being kidnapped...

“Wait, Countess Anise? What are you doing here?”

“Saving you, dear, what else?” Her lovely face was lit only by the torch still in her hand, but it was unmistakably the Countess Anise. Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade and the Queen's personal guard, there were many places she should be, and this definitely wasn't one. “I'll let you down if you promise not to run.”

Faren started to reply, but his voice broke and his flirty retort dried up into a nervous laugh. Anise chuckled and stepped back to let Faren off the dank stone wall. He shook off like a dog. He twisted around to feel his shirt with bound hands. His back felt wet. He didn't really want to know with what. He abruptly stood up straight and cleared his throat. “Thank you, milady.” Faren gave a little bow. “From the bottom of my heart, I—”

“Anise. You've got him out, I see.”

A male voice came from right behind Faren, making him shout and whirl around fast enough to fall onto his rear. Looming out of the darkness was the face of Captain Logan Thackeray, one of the most important men in the world who was for _some reason_ sneaking up on innocent nobles while they were trying to express their deepest appreciation. “Where did you come from?” Faren sputtered. “How are you so sneaky? You're wearing an entire iron mine on your back.”

“Obviously, yes, unless he's got a twin,” said Anise. “Though with me around I suppose that may not be far off.”

“We need to figure out why they went straight for Lord Faren,” said Logan. “Some of the most important people in Divinity's Reach were at that party. They could have easily taken anyone, but by the time the raid was through there was no one missing but him. He's rich, but not the richest. He's not the most important, beloved or especially powerful. Mainly, he's only loud. Did they get spooked before they could take anyone else?”

“You do realize I'm right here.”

“Those aren't new questions, Logan. That's what I'm here to find out, before you came clanking around and sticking your nose in. Haven't you got a job to do back on the surface?”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Yes. About that.” Faren grabbed hold of the wall behind him and managed to leverage himself to his feet, only slipping on the damp floor a few times. “Not that I'm not incredibly grateful, truly, but... I was under the impression you two served directly under the queen. Is there any particular reason you're running around in bandit caves dragging around handsome, bound gentlemen like some racy penny dreadful?”

Logan looked stern at what Faren thought was a perfectly reasonable question, but Anise smiled indulgently. It was no surprise that she was the one to answer. “I can't speak for Captain Thackeray, who perhaps _should_ be back at the Seraph's office when he has no real job to do here, but I for one am taking a personal mission, with Queen Jennah's blessing, of course. It's nice to get back in the thick of the adventure now and again. I hardly ever get to use my disguises on _myself_ these days.”

“Well, if there's one thing a bandit camp promises, it's a pervading cloud of body odor followed by adventure. Personally I was just about to convince Dead Ted, or possibly Greg, who either way is in fact alive and probably not even a necromancer, back there to let me out, and then I'd have taken the whole camp singlehandedly. I was the top student at—”

“If you're so insistent on doing this personally, then someone will have to be back at the palace making sure the Queen is safe,” Logan interrupted. “With her bodyguard off having adventures with noble braggarts, that will have to fall to me.”

Countess Anise rolled her eyes. “Oh, Logan. Don't be ridiculous. You really think I'd have left Jennah defenseless? You go running off handling Seraph objectives personally all the time. I think I'm allowed to play with a Shining Blade target now and again.” Anise ran her delicate fingers through Faren's hair, making him jump. “Besides, she's a grown woman, you know. Whatever your feelings for her, you don't have to hover over her all the time.”

“Her Majesty's illusions are very convincing!” Faren piped up eagerly. “Why, I had no idea that her Jubilee appearance was a clone until Scarlet practically already had her leafy claws around me—”

“You don't understand, Anise,” said Logan, looking away and going full-tilt into Brooding Male Hero mode. “You can't, really. I'm going back. You've got things handled here. Figure out the bandit problem. Crush it. Make sure everyone in Queensdale and Divinity's Reach will be safe tonight.”

“Of course, Captain Thackeray.” Faren struck a dramatic pose, stymied only a little by his still-bound hands. “DR is in capable hands with Countess Anise and, naturally, Lord Faren stemming the bandit problem at its source!” Logan was already gone, but Anise was there to catch Faren when he stumbled, which was nice of her. “Thank you, Countess. Well. Did you have a plan? I hope it involves untying me at some point, as swordfighting is rather hard with your teeth. I've tried it—would not recommend it.”

“Not yet. You're going to have to keep being a good little prisoner for just a little while longer, while we sneak into the heart of the main camp... we'll find the leader there, then we'll figure out what all this is really about. These aren't normal bandits. They're hired thugs. Someone with a lot of coin is specifically out to get the nobles of Divinity's Reach. And, apparently, you in particular. You aren't hurt, are you?” Anise ran her hands over Faren's arms to search for damage. He managed to contain his shudder rather admirably. “That is, if you're interested in helping at all. I can take you back home and disguise a guard as you. You seemed gung-ho enough, but you aren't generally the derring-do type, are you?”

Faren shrugged. “I'm already here. If you've got a sword for me, I'll be fine. Look, they can't be scarier than those Fanciest Cat fanatics. Oh, uh, and you don't kidnap Lord Faren without expecting personal retribution to come down upon you! Or... something like that.”

Faren thought he saw Anise hide another smile, but he was probably imagining it before she took on another disguise. This time she was a female bandit, big enough to be a norn, her face hidden by a mask. “Come on then,” said a much deeper voice than Anise's. A giant hand took his shoulder. Faren's face reddened. What could he say? She was a very powerful woman.

Faren had no real idea where they were going, but Anise led him through the maze of catacombs with relative ease. It was unclear if she really knew where they were going or if she was just very good at seeming confident when lost, but either way, it took quite a long time before they heard voices echoing down the tunnels. Anise tightened her grip on Faren and covered his mouth with her other hand, cutting off whatever stupid thing he was about to blurt out (“Look out, Countess! Bandits!!”). Soon enough, a series of human figures emerged out of the gloom. Their torches dotted the darkness in an eerie line like candle-holding churchgoers on their way to service. Anise hesitated, drawing back with Faren in her grip. As the marching nogoodniks got closer, their lights lit up the cave for everyone involved and it became clear they were in a line only because the tunnel dramatically narrowed up ahead and forced them to queue up like preschoolers on a walk. Something unsettling glinted in the Countess's eye. Faren chose to attribute it to the disguise, even as she dragged him right up to the mouth of the narrow part. “You probably ought to turn around, Faren, dear.” She cleared her throat. “To watch my back, that is.”

“You want to handle them all on your own? Countess, you're talented and in disguise, for that matter, but...”

“We're just waiting for them to pass, that's it. Now turn around, please.” Anise twirled her finger and drew her sword. Faren hesitated before he turned around, crouching and furrowing his eyebrows to look fierce. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Anise cast a veil over them. He turned back around and kept careful watch while the bandits walked past them one by one. When he couldn't stand staring into the darkness any longer and glanced back again, he was greeted by the sight of Anise slitting a bandit's throat. Faren covered his mouth to hide his squeak while the bandit fell, stiff and dead, onto a steadily-growing pile of corpses at Anise's feet, and Faren looked over again to see him marching on as if nothing had happened.

“A-Anise--Countess,” Faren whispered fiercely, “I thought we were just waiting for them to pass?”

“I was hoping you wouldn't notice,” Anise admitted. She hadn't bothered to keep the disguise up while using that much magic. “We would have gotten caught. We were completely outnumbered. It's just easier this way—and cleaner, too, which is surprising for something so dreadfully messy. It's a shame, but what can you do?” Anise killed another bandit, this one with a quick stab to the heart and glanced around him. “Looks like that was the last one. I'm glad there were only five of them. Any more and it would have started to feel like minor genocide.”

“Can't get your corpse pile too large or you do run that risk,” said Faren. Anise was already on her way forward. Faren had to scurry after her, picking his way over the pile of no-longer-concealed bandits. It was difficult without his hands. “This is not the most unpleasant thing I've had to do today,” Faren admitted, “But it's up there. Look--this chap's bag came open when you, ahem, took care of him. Gods, why is there so much butter?”

“Stop complaining, love. We're almost there. They wouldn't have bothered to go through such a dangerous corridor if there weren't something important nearby.”

“You really don't know where you're going!”

“I do now. Come along, jailbird.” Faren managed to get over his personal Shiverpeaks of dead bodies and catch up to the Countess, who had brought back up her disguise now that she wasn't using so much magic. He strode smoothly along behind her, a cheeky smile on his face, and started to say something until Anise grabbed him, flipped over his shoulders, and held him tight in “prisoner” position again.

“Ow! Do you have to twist my arms like that?”

“Authenticity,” said Anise sweetly, then she lowered her voice. “Now, be on the lookout. If it was dangerous for them, it's dangerous for us, too. They probably aren't as clever, but they wouldn't choose a hideout so close to a corridor like this if they weren't going to take advantage of it.”

“Are you sure it's where their hideout is? They could've just been lost, like I'm not sure you aren't.”

“Positive. That bandit with all the butter? His bag didn't just come open. I took something out of it. Something of yours, in fact.” Anise leaned in close to Faren's back and held a change purse in front of his eyes. It was monogramed with his initials.

“My wallet!” Faren sighed in relief. “I had a lovely sylvari woman give me her address so that we could exchange love letters in there. Er, can I check? Make sure everything's intact? At least jingle it. I have several love tokens in there and quite a few girls, and perhaps even a fellow or two of theirs, will have my head if I were to misplace them, hah...”

“Later, Faren, later. The point is, those bandits were all connected—something we did have to prove, because these caves are absolutely crawling with the lot. I think I'll have to speak with Logan about the bandit problem, perhaps posting some Seraph down here if we can spare them. It's getting out of control.”

“You're telling me. Did you know this is the second time within as many days that I've—wait, forget all that. Fine, they're connected, and I'm glad you got my wallet back and all, but why does that mean they—and by extension, you—aren't lost?”

“Well, there is the fact that I can see their camp up ahead. Quiet, now, mouse. Maybe I should gag you again just in case, hmm?”

Faren looked from deep in the darkness—if he strained his eyes, he really could make out lights—back to Anise's pretend-face, made eerie and ghostlike by the light of her torch. He started to speak, stopped, and started again. “Look, far be it from me to say I don't know my way around a pickup line,” he whispered, and stopped again. “Are you... are you flirting with me?” he said finally. “Is this a weird kinky thing?”

“Shh.” Anise's hand went over Faren's mouth. There was a movement in the darkness. He felt her tense until the movement revealed itself as another bandit.

“There you are,” the thug said. She glanced at Faren then to Anise. “Took you long enough. Got lost, did you? You look like you ain't from around here.”

Faren laughed from beneath her hand. Anise kicked him in the back of the knee. It hurt. “Not lost,” said Anise. “Took the long way. This idiot's not much to look at, but I hear he's tight with the Seraph. There must be some reason we took him.”

The guard laughed. “Hell if I know. He's the only one Mr. Head Honcho wanted. You were there for the briefing before the party, weren't you?”

“No. I'm filling in for my brother. He got sick, right.”

The bandit shrugged. “He specifically said to only take Lord Faren and then he went on this long rant about his hair. It was insane. Hilarious though. Probably doesn't bode well for Fancy Pants, but no one else but him gives much of a damn, I imagine. Didn't say why, just paid us.”

Faren was doing his very best to convey “What the hell?” with only his eyebrows, but he wasn't sure the bandit was appreciating his point. He chose to simply stick his nose into the air instead, but no sooner had he given up on elaborate pantomime than he was being dragged along once more.

“Where is the boss?” Anise was saying.

“He's off in the lake on his own little island. It's creepy. Like he's some kind of dragon alone on a mountain. I'm supposed to take the hostage to him as soon you get here, you already kept him waiting.” The other bandit grabbed for Faren and pulled him over to her, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket.

“Ladies, please!” Faren said, shaking himself off. “ _Ow._ There's enough of me for everyone.” While the bandit rolled her eyes, Anise cut the ropes from Faren's wrists.

“Oh, no, he's free!” she said in mock surprise.

“Whuh?” said Faren. Anise tackled him, pinning him to the ground and twisting his arms behind him.

“I'll hold him here while you get more rope!” The bandit nodded and ran off. Anise leaned down and whispered in Faren's ear. “I made up that their leader wanted you. I didn't know that he really sent for you while we were out. Just our luck. I'm going to let her take you to him, but don't worry. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Well, very _much_ bad happen to you.” Just out of the corner of his vision, Faren saw Anise wink. He felt her eyelashes brush his cheek. “You just find out why someone would gather up so many bandits and organize them. This doesn't sound like a gang. This sounds like something else.”

“It sounds like a supervillain,” Faren whispered back. “You know, with tons of henchmen and a hidden lair? It's right out of one of Moto's adventure boxes.”

Anise laughed. It was sweet in Faren's ear, even through the bizarre distortion of her disguise. “Well, we can't have that. We have enough trouble with all these dragons running around. Ah! Here she comes. Don't worry—you'll be coming too. Out alive, I mean. I'm taking care of you.”

“I'm sorry, what—”

“I got better than ropes,” the bandit called out, and Faren stopped short. “Chains. Apparently Lord Playboy's got a few more tricks than we thought. We're getting paid a lot not to screw this up. I don't know about you, but I'm not taking any chances on that paycheck.”

“Right.”

The bandit shoved Faren down into the ground and forced a gag into his mouth. C'est la vie.

Anise helped the bandit chain Faren up and then pulled him roughly to his feet. Anise waited till the bandit was looking the other way before she gave him one more playful pat and whispered, “Remember, I'm a mesmer. I'll be right behind you.”

“Mmph mphmph,” said Faren agreeably. The bandit hit him upside the head and told him to shut up. Anise handed him over for good and Faren was shoved into a tiny little boat in a tiny underground little lake on his way to a tiny little shack on a tiny little island. He couldn't help but feel things were getting ominous.

By the time the leaky little boat arrived at the island, Faren was damp all over, so much so that it hardly mattered when the guards purposefully dunked him when they hauled him out of the boat. When he acted affronted, because _of course_ he was angry, who even _does_ that, they just laughed at him and shoved him onto land. Bandits were jerks, Faren decided. Big fat jerks.

There was nothing on the island except a small, ramshackle... well, shack. This was the big, scary lair everyone was playing up? If Faren weren't gagged he'd scoff, and then he'd probably say something really snappy and memorable. It was hard to see anything at all when it was so dark. There were only a few torches dotting the cave to light things up. It was bright enough to see a bandit open the shack's door, exchange a few words with someone inside, and then Faren's gag was removed and he was thrown inside into complete darkness.

“Ouch,” said Faren. He took inventory of himself. Everything seemed to be in one piece. He waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust, but there was still nothing to be seen in the darkness. “Hello? Terrifying, mysterious kidnapper?” Faren rolled onto his back and sighed dramatically. “Yes, you're very scary and all. You can come out stroking your villainous cat now.”

Laughter. A chill went up Faren's spine despite all his best efforts. “Well, that's scarier than an empty room, I'll give you that,” he said. “Now if you could just turn on some lights we can play a nice game of Belcher's Bluff...”

“We're not here to play _games,_ Lord Faren,” came a raspy voice, echoing around the room so Faren couldn't tell where it was coming from. It didn't sound like someone's real voice. It didn't sound like an illusion either. It sounded like someone trying to do a character. “I went through great personal trouble to bring you here. I know someone like you doesn't understand the meaning of trouble, or gold, but I promise you, I went through much of both to arrange this meeting, and I plan on getting my money's worth.”

Faren was speechless for a long moment, which was a personal record for him. “Have you ever heard of... arranging a meeting? Writing a letter, maybe? It's... It's a lot easier.”

“No! Shut up! This is more important than anything that can be arranged within _society's_ rules. After all, you didn't follow the rules, why should I? Why should _either_ of us? No, the three of us are beyond that. The three of us are in something altogether different, aren't we, Faren?”

“I'm truly, deeply sorry...” Faren took a moment to collect his words. He was obviously dealing with a delicate situation here and he should treat it with as much care. “But you appear to be under the impression that I speak whatever insane tongues you are trying to communicate in, and regretfully, I do not.” He paused. “Three of us?” But by the grace of the gods, Faren stopped himself just in time from blurting out something about Anise.

“Yes, _three_ of us! Don't pretend like you don't know why you're here!” Faren was abruptly lifted by the front of his shirt off the ground and shaken like a rag doll. The weird raspy voice dropped in favor of something higher, but Faren couldn't make out who was accosting him. The darkness in here was too thick not to be magical. Just his luck. “You stupid, talentless hack...”

“I... I don't have to pretend? Wow, ol' DR really does attract the crazies these days, eh...?”

Faren was thrown against the wall, hard enough that he heard a terrible _crack_ and an intense pain in his arm. He swore intensely for a few minutes and when he got through the pain enough to get real words out he was ready to continue the dialogue in earnest. “What is wrong with you? What do you even want, you weirdo? Listen, if you're a scorned lover, _clearly_ I was correct to turn you down—”

“You could only wish,” said the voice, right by Faren's ear. He started and kicked at it, but there was nothing there. “Maybe this will jog your memory,” it continued. Faren felt something warm and soft brush against his face, and then a gentle _meow..._

The lights flickered on and when Faren's eyes could adjust to the pain, there was Chauncey von Snuffles III, the runner-up in the Divinity's Reach Fanciest Cat Competition, staring straight into his eyes with his cold, bright yellow ones.

“Oh my _gods,_ ” said Faren. “You have got to be _kidding_ me.”

“Oh, no, Milord,” said the person holding Chauncey. Faren could see him now—he was a huge fellow with a jet black goatee, wearing a bowler hat, glasses and bowtie identical to Chauncey's. Pinned to his shirt was a badge that said _1_ _st_ _Annual Divinity's Reach Fanciest Cat Competition._ “This is no joke. No joke at all.” The man shifted Chauncey to one arm and grabbed a fistful of Faren's shirt with the other hand. “Or do you think the honor of every cat in Divinity's Reach is a joke?! That would explain it! That would explain how you could do this to poor, innocent little Chauncey—”

“He doesn't seem to care! He's a cat! Do you, Chauncey? You're on my side!” Faren squinted at the man, who was unfamiliar. Faren remembered Chauncey's owner clearly. She was at the head of the mob calling for Faren's head after the ill-fated Fancy Cat contest. “Hey, you're not his owner. Who the heck are you? Dear, sweet Chauncey! Don't tell me he took you too!”

“I didn't take him. I'm going to return him.” The catman dropped Faren and held Chauncey to his chest protectively. “I'm just... I'm just giving Chauncey the respect he _deserves,_ the respect you didn't give to him when you gave that two-bit pussy the prize he so rightly deserved!”

“Listen to me when I tell you this with the deepest respect, as a friend,” said Faren with as much sensitivity as he could muster. “Get over it! Lady Wisteria Whiskington won fair and square! Chauncey is fancy, but he's not the fanciest—sorry, Chauncey—and you people are just going to have to accept that. The mobs, the riots, and now bandit syndicates—this is just too far! Even kidnapping Chauncey himself. The nerve it must take. You should be ashamed.”

“ _I_ should be ashamed?” The villain's eyes flashed. “You can call me von Snuffles the Fourth. I don't want to hear my true name on the lips of scum such as yourself. You bring shame to the hearts of every cat-lover in Tyria.”

“Snuffles the... never mind. You know what, I'm just gonna say it. I'm more of a dog person. There, it's out. Everyone heard me. But does anyone have a fanciest dog competition? Noooo. It's ridiculous, is what it is. Big Cat lobbying to take over everything.” Faren hissed under his breath, “Anise, it would be really nice if you helped out right about now.”

“What was that, scum?”

“Nothing. As you were saying about shame and defending the rights and honor of helpless kittens from big, bad nobles who said they weren't super duper fancy? Honestly, I just liked Wisteria better. I felt bad for Chauncey. He was trying too hard for fancy. Sorry, buddy, but cats don't even need glasses. What's up with that?” Snuffles IV was definitely not respecting Faren's personal space and that was getting much too tiresome. Even Chauncey looked like he was getting bored, or scared, or a combination of both. Maybe if Faren saved Chauncey from what was clearly a raving lunatic, everyone would get off his back for the damn cat competition. “Tell you what. I challenge you to a duel. I win, you let me and Chauncey here go. You win, I admit that Chauncey is the fanciest of any fancy cat and I don't tell the Seraph. We all walk away happy. What do you say?”

Snuffles IV considered it for a long moment, stroking a concerned-looking Chauncey, then he began to laugh. “Faren, Faren, Faren. Sweet, naïve Faren. You were Swordmaster Bongo's prize student.”

“Well, I wouldn't say _prize..._ ” said Faren modestly, or desperately, whichever.

“You think I was stupid enough not to do any research at all on my greatest enemy? Hah! Can you believe this guy, Chauncey?” Snuffles IV shook his head. “Let me change the terms of that duel. You tell Chauncey he is the fanciest cat, in writing, and _sign_ it. You apologize for all the emotional turmoil you've put him through. Then I kill you and feed your body to him as cat food. Also, there is no duel at all.”

“I... I don't think I like those terms very much.”

“I don't like your opinions very much. Start thinking up your apology.” Snuffles IV made a key appear out of seemingly nowhere and released Faren from the chains. They fell in a clatter to the ground. Chauncey jumped lightly into Faren's lap. He gave a satisfied meow, stretching out.

As soon as Chauncey was out of the human Snuffles' arms, a veritable army of Countesses Anise appeared in the room all at once. “Keep ahold of the cat, Faren!” they all said.

Faren grabbed Chauncey with both arms, including his bad one. Faren shouted in pain and Chauncey thanked him by scratching up his face. Faren held him away with his good arm, wincing. “I'm trying to help you! Kidnapping isn't the kind of catnap you're thinking of, trust me on this one.” Faren looked away from the fuzzy source of his troubles to realize Snuffles IV was more talented as a magic-user than he had realized. Countess Anise was the best mesmer Faren knew and even she seemed to be flagging a little bit all on her own. Snuffles was right next to her, but for some reason she wasn't attacking him. “Countess, he's _right there,_ why aren't you—”

Snuffles sent a bolt of magic Faren's way that Chauncey barely managed to push the two of them out of the way of. “You're a really strong cat,” Faren said, a little in awe. Snuffles was too preoccupied to realize Faren hadn't been hit, but Anise still wasn't attacking the right places. Faren realized it was that weird, magic darkness from when he'd first been thrown in this place. She couldn't attack the cat nerd if she didn't have a clue where he was. “We've got to do something,” Faren told Chauncey. Chauncey meowed and Faren nodded back, determined. "Oh... poopers," he sighed, a little less determined.

He placed Chauncey on his shoulders, narrowed his eyes, and rolled up one sleeve before giving up when he had to try and use his bad arm. He didn't know how he was going to help, but there had to be some way. He didn't even have a sword. All he really had to do was make sure Anise knew where Snuffles was, right? “If things get bad, jump out of the way,” Faren told Chauncey. “I don't need another angry mob after me.” His stalling over, Faren ran into the fray.

And promptly got hit. A magic beam grazed his sleeve, slicing his arm open. He wheeled backward but couldn't let that stop him. He thought Anise had cast it. Snuffles had his back to him. Then and there, Faren made his plan. It wasn't a very good or well thought out plan. In fact, it wasn't much of a plan at all. It was mostly just one action.

Faren tackled Snuffles IV, shouting: “Anise! He's right here! Shoot him! Hit him! Hit him!! Kill him, hit hit hit!”

After that was sort of a blur of magic and pain, but a few minutes later Faren was woken up by Chauncey sitting and purring on his face. Faren was still alive, so he counted that as a win. He could even sit up with only moderate pain. Another win. Best of all, there was only one body on the ground, and it wasn't Anise's.

“It all seems so authentic,” she said, going through the meager collection of books and trinkets in the tiny shack. “Everything here is related to all those... cat... things.”

You're telling me.” He scratched behind Chauncey's ears, quietly hurting all over for a moment, and then he got over it. “Well, that was certainly something,” he said. “Thank you so much for your help, Countess. Really. Please, if there's ever anything I can do for you... Er, as long as it involves never talking about any of this again.”

Anise laughed. She closed the book she was going through and helped Faren to his feet, letting him support his weight on her. “The adventure's not quite over yet, dear.” Chauncey rubbed against Anise's face, purring and hitting Faren in the face with his tail. “There's still one more exciting location to visit before I send in Logan's guards to clean up the mess and send off the stragglers.”

Faren felt his tired face pulling into a grin. “And what's that?”

“The hospital.” Anise kissed Faren's cheek. “Never try to join the Seraph. You're not cut out for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [SAD TROMBONE SOUND; STUDIO AUDIENCE LAUGHS]


End file.
